Ladies and gentlemen, the HOT BADASS summer has begun. Actually, it began on Father's Day, when during our Epic Quadruple-Header Robert crushed this line drive right back up the box. In one of the great examples of sacrificing physical being for the sake of cutting-edge photojournalism, I had about half a second to snap the photo before I ducked and covered.
After two days of full-time fatherhood, I can tell you two things. One, it's absolutely the best job in the world, one that inspires me as nothing else has to be as boredom-proof as possible. (Unfortunately, someone out there has set the bar pretty goddamn high.) And two, I can't fathom how full-time parents with more than one kid manage to update their blogs as often as they do. So here's a healthy bit of genuflecting to those of you whose multitasking skills far outweigh mine.
On Sunday afternoon I asked TwoBert if he wanted to go pee in his little dog-dish pottything. He said "OK," walked on over, struck a contorted Pilates pose over the potty (sort of a split-legged push-up with arching spine), and filled my heart with the Amber Liquid of Hope. If there could be a better portent for great things to come over the next ten weeks, I'd like to see it.
Granted, I got about five minutes to gush over him and fill my head with thoughts of a diaper-free lifestyle before he stood about five feet from the potty and let loose two Steaming Stalagmites of Not Quite Yet. But I am undaunted; into every potty-trainer's life, a little corn must fall.
